


You’re...what?

by bbhrupp



Series: Extended Arrangements [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Family, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft's Meddling, Parentlock, mycroft holmes/Greg Lestrade - Freeform, mystrade, parentstrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-10-09 02:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbhrupp/pseuds/bbhrupp
Summary: Mycroft turns up at the break of dawn with some very important news...





	1. You’re What?

“You’re....what?”

Greg rubbed his eyes, squinting tiredly into the dark that Mycroft stood within. The cold breeze encouraged him more and more to close the door on his visitor, to go back to bed. God knows what time it was, but for some reason the elder Holmes had decided this was the perfect time to-  
“I’m moving in Gregory”

Mycroft gestured to the small carry case beside him, though Greg wasn’t convinced that was all he’d be bringing. That considering Mycroft practically lived in three piece suits, heck he even wore one to bed once...or was it twice?...

The detective gave another puzzled look and in response gestured to his small, slightly tatty apartment. Mycroft sighed.  
“Granted, this place will need some adjustments to be of my liking, but I simply could not stand to be without you Gregory, and you refused to accommodate at my home when I offered, therefore it would be-“  
“Look, Myc, firstly please, just call me Greg ok? You sound like my mother, and on that note I don’t need you to look after me, I’m fine, you don’t need to move in with me”  
“But I _want_ to move in with you, I _want_ to be with you”  
Damn, he knew there was a reason he fell in love with him. Genuine confessions like that was one of them... Yet another arrow straight to the heart. 

“As for you being... _fine_ your colleagues have told me otherwise, that you have been consistently unwell. You do look pale Grego-...Greg, and I am increasingly worried about your wellbeing. Just...answer me honestly, have you been avoiding me because you are unwell? Know that I am not deterred but rather hurt that you didn’t think you could confide in me, you know I want what’s best for you. Please, darling let me assist you in whichever way I can. Whatever it is you need, if I had to...I would search the Earth to find it for you”

Mycroft took a step into the flat, looking down at Greg with warmth and worry. Jesus why did he have to be so smooth. He had no doubt Mycroft would do anything to make him happy, and him being the British Government that could really be anything. Like all those mysterious raises and updates in technology at the yard, those complaints that had mysteriously disappeared, they all stunk of his power-happy boyfriend. He still wasn’t comfortable with it all. Greg could see it clearly, Mycroft would move in, Greg would catch a cold, the whole yard would be quarantined and possibly sacked because of it.

The last few weeks had been agony. Ever since he’d found out...  
Yes, he’d been avoiding Mycroft, but only because he was afraid of what he would say, or do. It was horrible to admit, but Mycroft bloody Holmes was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t ask for a better partner in life, but he didn’t know how much longer that would last.  
He put his head in his hands, this was all too conflicting. Almost as soon as he had, he felt a hand on his wrist, holding gently.

“Gregory, my love, my darling, my heart. Tell me what’s wrong”  
Those kindest and softest words burned as Lestrade gathered himself.

_Here’s your opening, now’s the time_

He lowered his arms and shifted away from Mycroft, letting the confused glance of his partner sting straight through him. This was the best way to do it.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Greg asked blankly.  
Mycroft struggled for words as he tried to contemplate the situation.  
“....I don’t understand”  
“You’re the genius, go on, deduce me, what’s your analysis?”  
“Obviously you are unwell”  
“And?”

Watching the gears turn in his love’s head was surprisingly amusing, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Mycroft this confused. He kept a straight face and waited.

“...you...declined all of my date invitations, and have acted rather coldly towards me... I thought at first you were upset with me, but the CCTV shows you have been wearing more of the clothes I have given you, even clothes of my own that I had left here...”  
Of course he’d notice that, of course he would.  
“I also checked your computer and-“  
“I told you to stop doing that”  
“I was worried about you!”  
“Then do something to distract yourself like...knitting, or something”

Mycroft sceptically raised an eyebrow at that last comment as Greg’s poker face cracked into a small smirk. The vision of Mycroft knitting was just too much, especially a stressed Mycroft knitting.  
“If I may continue”  
“You may”

“You were researching paid sick leave and hospital care, which led me to believe you were seriously ill. This was backed up by the sight of you regularly...vomiting-”  
Mycroft flashed a look of serious worry over to Greg upon saying that word. Why did he have to make him feel so guilty for hiding this?  
“-into your office bin. I then had words with your colleagues who were also concerned. I have noted that you have had troubles eating, that you are much more susceptible to extreme moods, and also that-“

He paused, looking over at Greg, checking him up and down. My god I think he’s got it. Wait, was Mycroft smiling? No, not the reaction Greg was expecting at all.  
“What is it?” Greg asked, blushing as Mycroft was once again lost for words.

“...also that you’re wearing an old pair of pyjamas that I let you borrow from me, and they fit you a lot better than they did before”

“Is that the polite way of saying I’m fat?”  
“Pregnant would be a closer term don’t you think?”

Greg smiled  
“Yeah, I guess you’re right”


	2. A Kind Of Announcement

“I don’t understand! If Lestrade was here, he would let me examine the body!”  
“Well Lestrade isn’t here!”  
“Then where is he?”  
“He’s off sick, I keep telling you this but you don’t listen Sherlock”  
“No, _you_ don’t listen”

Sherlock slammed the case file onto the desk in fury making Anderson almost jump out of his skin.  
“Lestrade has been off for over a week with what you tell me is some sort of flu, however it strikes me that nobody else in this department has had the flu or any form of illness similarly, so what’s going on? Tell me, now”  
“Sherlock, you and I both know Detective Lestrade wouldn’t sign off unless he was very unwell so-”  
“Why hasn’t he recovered? Are you hiding something from me Anderson?” he shouted, gesturing angrily towards the inspector.  
Anderson laughed nervously.  
“Of course you would ask that, you’re some bizarre alien without human emotions or feeling! People get ill Sherlock and they take time off like normal people, Lestrade will be back o-wh-where are you going?”  
Anderson sighed as as Sherlock swiftly walked out the door, knocking over everything in his path as he did so.

 

The doorbell noisily disturbed a peaceful evening, and quickly the cause made itself known.  
“LESTRAAAAADE”  
Greg’s eyes went wide and he looked up at Mycroft from his cosy position, the holmes’ lap. Mycroft groaned and rolled his eyes, holding onto Greg as he anxiously shifted.

“Myc-” he muttered drowsily.  
“Shhh, don’t waste your attention on him, he’s not worth it”  
“...won’t he be mad?”  
“Undoubtedly”  
The doorbell rung again.  
“I-I should go, it’s my-“  
“I know you’re in there!” The unmistakeable voice of Sherlock Holmes bellowed from outside.

“Stay here, I will go and deal with this...visitor”  
Mycroft ran a hand through his detective’s hair and moved to get up. Just before he could, Greg weakly grabbed his wrist.  
“No Myc it’s my flat, he’ll be suspicious you’re here... we could just ignore him, or pretend to be dead” Greg scrunched his nose in thought as he realised all the flaws in the latter plan...and also the positives. No more work, but then again no more money...but would there be life insurance money? And he would get to hear his own eulogy, that had to be a bonus; unless it was Sherlock’s job to deliver it, then definitely not a bonus. 

“He was going to work it out eventually darling, we’re hardly hiding our tracks. He’s _my_ brother, I’ll deal with him, you stay here and get your rest”  
“...been resting all day...”  
“Only half of the day, the other half you were... otherwise indisposed” Mycroft flashed a concerned smile to his boyfriend who sighed in response.  
“Ok, but... don’t say anything stupid”  
Mycroft leant in for a quick but tender kiss  
“Of course”

 

Sherlock tried to look through the curtains but couldn’t see anything, curse the fabric opacity, how was he supposed to keep track of his favourite detective and dare he say friend with curtains as thick as this.  
“Must make a note... burn Lestrade’s curtains down at next available opportunity, finalise by offering condolences and replacement curtains preferably made out of single line linen, in grey, he likes grey”

The faint shuffling coming from inside settled him a little, at least it wasn’t so bad that the DI couldn’t walk. But...he could swear he heard another voice? A family friend perhaps. Perhaps it was a bad time... No, he needed answers and needed them now.  
He was just about to yell again when the door opened.

“Thank god, you would not believe how dull th- Mycroft? What the hell are _you_ doing here??“  
Mycroft smirked at Sherlock’s stunned expression.  
“I could ask the same of you brother dearest”  
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he tried to understand the situation.  
“Where’s Lestrade?”  
“Presumably his colleagues at Scotland Yard informed you of his inability to report to work, why else would you be here at this hour in such a state, if you were a normal functioning human being I would say you were concerned but-“  
“I’m not concerned!”  
“So quick to react? Could it be brother that you are gaining _compassion_ for your colleagues?”

Sherlock swore under his breath, gritting his teeth. He stepped right into Mycroft’s space, glaring deeply into his unfazed expression.  
“Look Mycroft, I didn’t come here to be criticised and bothered by you, I’m here to see Lestrade! Where is he? Why won’t you-“  
The younger Holmes recoiled as a new piece of the puzzle jumped out in front of him.

“Oh.”  
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, inviting Sherlock to continue.  
“At first I thought you were wearing the same aftershave as Lestrade, naturally I’m familiar with the scent having spent so much time working with him”  
“Naturally”  
“But on you the scent is not as strong, meaning rather than you using the same aftershave, someone else using that aftershave has been very close to you recently...and often, no, regularly. The lack of mixed cigarette smells confused me but if Lestrade is ill then he is not smoking which would explain that, but why would you be close to Lestrade? There are strands of his hair all over your clothes and don’t seem to mind, a contradiction knowing you. Any dirt or inconsistencies would repel you but in this case... and since when did you not wear a suit, or...shoes”  
“I can relax sometimes”  
“No Mycroft, you never relax, which just makes this-“  
Sherlock paused, gasping. He frantically muttered to himself, putting his head in his hands.

“Honestly Sherlock, I’m surprised you didn’t work it out before, you had plenty of opportunities to. Perhaps you didn’t want to accept it, but it’s the truth”  
“NO!” He yelled, pushing past his brother and into the flat.  
Greg didn’t have the energy to feel surprised when Sherlock stormed into the living room, neither was he particularly shocked given the tone of voice he’d heard from outside. He sat up from the sofa and rubbed his eyes, preparing himself for-  
“Mycroft??? You’re dating Mycroft??? Are you out of your MIND? Seriously Greg, you couldn’t find anyone else to- oh my god you’re pregnant”  
“Yeah good evening to you too Sherlock”

“How did you pick the pregnancy up so quickly, it took me ages” Mycroft muttered from the doorway.  
“Well it’s obvious from the-“  
“Sherlock please, I don’t need another Holmes to tell me I’m fat and hormonal”  
“...you’re watching ‘one born every minute’ and your phone is open on a baby names tab”

 

Greg was certain baby brain wasn’t supposed to come this early on in the pregnancy.  
However, the Holmes brothers did have a knack for making him feel thick.  
Life goes on...


	3. A Kitchen Horror

“Myc, the longer you stare at it the less likely it is to go away”

Greg spoke sleepily, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.  
“I simply do not understand how you have lived under these circumstances”  
“It’s just a microwave”  
It was quite a sight, watching the British government glare at a common household appliance with utmost contempt. Just one of the many things in Greg’s life that was not to his lordship’s standard...  
“That’s exactly my point, where is your oven?”

The detective groaned.  
“Does it look like there’s space for an oven Mycroft?”  
Mycroft sighed as he realised how tight the situation truly and literally was. From standing by the door the microwave, washing machine and sink were all less than arms’ length away.  
“No, you’re right, there’s no space in here at all. But if there’s no space for an oven then is there really space for a baby?”  
“...Myc”  
“Gregory darling, quaint as this is I wouldn’t even be able to swing a Siberian hamster in this apartment. What hope do we have with raising a child here?“  
Greg rubbed his forehead from a mixture of irritation and queasiness. It would be poetic and romantic to say that Mycroft walked over to comfort him...but the kitchen was so small that all he had to do was turn round. The thought of this had them both pausing to consider alternatives. 

“I’m not living in your mansion, it’s far too grand to raise a normal child”  
“Gregory darling many fair and ordinary people come from wealthy backgrounds, myself and Sherlock turned out well“  
“Is this the same Sherlock who keeps pickled brains in his oven, and the same ‘myself’ that openly carries an umbrella sword gun around London and folds his underpants”  
Mycroft gasped.  
“Normal people don’t fold their underpants?”


	4. The Extension

Wednesday night was pub quiz night. 

The locals would filter in to have their piece of entertainment, trying to guess the names of Welsh town names and popular brands of shoe. John had thought that attending might educate Sherlock on the more trivial facts of life such as the names of the other planets in the solar system, the rules of football, and how the Kardashians have so much money. The last one he actually hoped Sherlock might work out for him... 

Sherlock had however taken to it like a duck does to being a duck, in the sense that he was now the quiz master and would ask questions that he probably didn’t know the answer to. It became less of a ‘whoever has the most knowledge gets a free pint’ to a ‘whoever can impress Sherlock and teach him something about life gets a free pint’. Whilst not only was this a great day out for Sherlock, it also gave his dads some time off to catch up and talk about big boy things. The topic for this meeting:

“You’re kidding me”

“Nope, not kidding”

“The whole apartment block?”

“All 12 flats”

John nearly dropped his pint along with his jaw in reaction to what Greg was saying.  
“All that just so you could-“  
“Extend the kitchen...yep. I honestly don’t know why I let him do it, I don’t even want to think about how he managed to buy them all _and_ keep the tenants happy”  
Greg sighed and leaned back into the sofa. He laid a hand on the gentle curve of his bump that had just begun to show and wondered what madness the little one had created. Their baby was lucky, being born into a never-ending pot of gold was sure to have it’s benefits...

“So where are you staying? At Mycroft’s mansion?”  
“Nah, that’s too far away from work, so Myc booked us a hotel room...well, I say a room...”  
He must admit he had been a little shocked when he’d turned up to Hendon Hall and found that the room they had was in fact the entire hotel, but then again most of Mycroft’s usual offerings had been kicked up a level since the baby announcement. Before, he would find a black car outside Scotland Yard a few times a week, now it was at least daily. He even had to re-assure Mycroft that walking home wouldn’t kill him after several panicked phone calls and one missing person report. The level of care Mycroft had given was amazing, it was so great to feel loved, but sometimes it could be a bit too much.

As punishment he’d taken to picking a different room to sleep in each night at the hotel, obviously not telling Mycroft. The hotel had turned off the internal security so their higher ups would never find out they’d let the entire place to two people, so Mycroft had no chance of finding him without physically searching. He can’t say that he didn’t enjoy it, nor Mycroft. 

As Greg explained a rather interesting night, John cried with laughter, so much that he didn’t hear Sherlock correctly pronounce Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch and mention the Beckhams twice.  
“You’re a worthy match for a Holmes Greg, that’s for certain”  
“As are you John”  
“Ha, me and Sherlock? You must be kidding”  
John looked over at the mad man he had to live with, running rings around the pub’s patrons. Greg smiled, seeing a familiar spark in his friend’s eyes.  
“I think you’re kidding yourself John, why don’t you just talk to him?”  
He watched as John held back some form of emotion. God he was sure Mycroft was beginning to rub off on him, he was analysing his every move. John simply smiled and put his pint down on the table.

“So, have you thought of any baby names yet?”


	5. A True Gentleman

“Take a seat Edmonson”

“Thankyou Mr Holmes, I can guarantee this will not take up much of your time”

“I can only hope so”

Mycroft smiled, but it was a business smile, worn with a sense of practicality rather than genuinely. He had more important things to be doing, however Carl Edmonson was a valued member of the board and an associate of many MPs, so a meeting with him could surely only be beneficial. He would welcome him into his office to speak of whatever he wished if it meant gaining his trust as a colleague. Mycroft had rarely had the opportunity to speak to Edmonson, so he was slightly suspicious of his intentions, but still open to talk at least.

“Mr Holmes, you are without a doubt one of the most powerful men in the United Kingdom”  
Mycroft smirked  
“Flattery Edmonson? One might almost think you want something”  
“Your opinion Sir, your opinion and influence in this case would indeed be most appreciated”

The elder Holmes leant forward, putting his arms on his desk, trying to get a proper look at his colleague. His body language showed he was very assured of his goals, that he was expecting Mycroft to give him what he wanted. However, he wasn’t yet sure that was what he would get?  
“My opinion...on what?”

“Mr Holmes, you are an esteemed and well posed gentleman, capable of only-“  
“Don’t grovel Edmonson, grovelling befits you. Please, get to the point, I have other things to be doing”  
Mycroft said as he leant back into his chair, getting slightly irritated.  
“Right...right...The opposition in the Houses of Parliament are putting in a bid to repeal a law and they would very much appreciate your backing”  
“I don’t deal with that kind of politics, you should know that already”  
“I’m aware, but since you are a gentleman, your thoughts should align with the promotion of this cause”  
“And what exactly is that cause Edmonson?”

The younger man perked up, excited to share the latest idea to benefit the country. He was sure this was going to go well, he was finally going to get a bill passed and finally going to get the recognition he deserved. Breathe easy Carl, this is your moment.  
“We want to repeal the legalisation of gay marriage”

 

When Greg stepped through the door of his now significantly larger flat he was hit by a satisfying smell coming from the kitchen.  
He’d just started to get his appetite back and was still finding it hard to remember what he should and shouldn’t eat through his pregnancy. Mycroft, however, had almost instantly adjusted all of his internal recipes to avoid anything that might be unsafe for his boyfriend. His meals would not only be delicious but also healthy and safe. This made Greg very happy and eased his stress from the day. 

The silver haired detective dropped his case by the door, kicking off his shoes and hanging his coat by the door. He stepped into the kitchen but was surprised by the sight.  
The lights were dimmed, there were candles on the countertops and the dining table had been set out to impress royalty, meals already served and waiting.  
The master chef was stood by his creation in equally smart attire making Greg rather confused and also have a sinking feeling of forgetting something.

“Uhhh...I thought our anniversary was next month?” He said, scratching his head and blushing slightly. He loved this crazy eccentric idiot.  
“Gregory darling...” Mycroft said delicately as he walked over to his love, taking his hands in his own. “I realised something today, something of vital importance”  
The look in his eyes was of pure and utter adoration. God what did Greg do to deserve this, his perfect life. He fought his pounding heart to get his words out.

“What... did you realise?”

“That I cannot be without you”

No, no way.  
Stupid stupid Mycroft Holmes, stupid ridiculous marvellous Mycroft Holmes. He had always been his, but they’d never really talked about the next step...  
Mycroft knelt down on one knee, blushing hard as he let himself get lost in Greg’s eyes. From his pocket he brought out a medium sized box.  
“M-Mycroft, I-“

“Dearest darling, my most treasured love, you are the beacon guiding me to purest joy. On this day I realised I could not go another without showing the world how much I adore you. Would you do me the honour...”  
He opened the box to reveal a gold ring with diamonds encrusted all the way round. It was beautiful, subtle yet stunning.  
“Gregory Lestrade, will you marry me?”

There was a pause, a moment of silence before Greg joined his love on the floor and said yes. Well...a rough and passionate snog counts as a yes right?  
“Of course you idiot, of course I will”  
They kissed again, or maybe a lot. 

When they parted, laughing and smiling, Mycroft took the opportunity to put the ring onto Greg’s finger. It was a perfect fit.  
“My fiancé, husband-to-be” it felt so unreal to be saying those words “tonight is my gift to you” he stood up and turned on the stereo he’d put on the countertop. Slow dance music filled the room as he offered his hand to Greg.  
The detective blushed and patted his baby bump.  
“I might need a bit more help than that love”

Mycroft helped Greg up and pulled him close. He placed a hand on the small of Greg’s back, gently rubbing circles into the area he knew Greg had been uncomfortable with lately. This simple action soothed lot of tension and Greg melted into Mycroft’s hold. With his other hand, Mycroft took Greg’s and slowly swayed their bodies in time with the music. 

They stayed in this moment of bliss for quite a while until Greg suddenly tensed up.  
“What is? Is it the baby?” Mycroft asked, voice laced in concern.  
“Yeah...uh...I think they just moved”


End file.
